


so come on take this chance now (make it count)

by georgianablythe16



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgianablythe16/pseuds/georgianablythe16
Summary: So have a little Midwife!Emma/Captain Swan/Captain Book/Book Swan?? (What’s the name for the Emma/Belle brotp, cause I am drawing a blank here friends) This is inspired by 6x09 but it’s an au and has nothing to do with the episode really except for the part where Emma helps Belle give birth. Enjoy! And let me know what you think, please!





	

_I’m singing oh, you’ve got no  
You’ve got no excuses left_

Emma Swan is good at what she does. Then again, it helps to have some skin in the game, helps to really know your job, and the people that you help. She knows what it’s like to be young, alone, and most importantly: pregnant. So yeah, as the head midwife at Boston’s Home for Women, she knows what she’s doing, and she sure as hell knows what her patients are going through.

Over the years at BHW Emma’s helped many women give birth. Some stories were more tragic than others, but none of them were as horrifying as Belle French’s.

Belle had come to the home in the beginning of her first trimester, running away from her abusive ass of a husband, who promised to take the baby from her, so far away that she’d never see her child again. It wasn’t just that though, apparently, he’d been verbally abusing Belle for years, treating her like a possession to control rather than his wife. Belle had always thought there was some good in him, but the moment he threatened her son, well, she just couldn’t see any way to justify his actions anymore.

Luckily for her, no matter how powerful or rich her husband claimed to be, he couldn’t reach her so long as she stayed at BHW, and Emma was happy to help.

Belle was given her own room, and the freedom to come and go as she pleased, but she mostly enjoyed reading in the small library that the home offered. She was a sweet girl, and Emma found herself looking forward to their weekly sessions, always inquiring as to which book Belle was reading next, or what names she’d been considering for her baby.

It was an odd friendship that they had, but since Emma was Belle’s midwife, they couldn’t really expand upon that friendship, leaving it to the weekly conversations during her appointments and nothing else.

So Emma guesses that’s why she never heard anything about Killian Jones. And why she got off to such a horrible start with him.

She met him, coincidentally, the day that Belle gave birth.

The morning had dawned cold and damp, the Autumn air practically suffocating Emma as she walked the two blocks to the BHW house. It was a beautiful building, all red brick and white shutters, an iron fence lining the property. Emma loved working here, loved the walk, loved the people, loved the good she was doing. It felt right, felt like atonement for all the not so great things she’d done in her life.

She’s not stupid, she knows some part of her likes to help these women and their babies because she feels guilty for giving up her own kid all those years ago. She shouldn’t feel guilty, she knows this, it was the best option, the only option really. She’d been eighteen years old and in a prison cell, that’s not the kind of life a baby needs. A baby needs soft blankets and dancing mobiles, classical music and colorful pacifiers. She couldn’t give that to her kid, but someone else could.

She knows it was the right thing to do, but it’s just hard seeing these women go through what she went through. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and yet the world does not always deal good hands, sometimes it deals really shitty ones.

Emma got a shitty one. Belle--well, she’s not pulling aces, that’s for sure.

When Emma walks through the front door of the home, expecting to find Belle in the library off the front entryway, and instead finding an empty room and a silent first floor, she knows something is wrong. Every day that Emma comes into work she greets Belle because the pretty brunette is always sitting in the cozy red armchair, a pile of books to her left and a cup of tea on her lap, and yet there sits the red armchair, bereft of a Belle.

“Maureen,” Emma starts, walking to the receptionist window only to find that Maureen is nowhere in sight, and neither is Eve, her assistant.

Before Emma can do much more than stare she hears a scream from upstairs. Not a horror movie scream, or an “oh no I dropped the vase!” scream, but a scream of pain.

“Fucking hell,” she mutters under her breath as she takes the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner to Belle’s room (because instinct being instinct, she just knows that it’s Belle who screamed) she finds Maureen, Eve, and about three of the other workers crowding around Belle as she lets out another yelp, this one more subdued and ending on a whimper.

The only other nurse in the room, Rose, is running around frantically. Emma sighs, entering the room with a flourish, dropping her bag down on the dresser.

“Everyone out! Except for you, Rose, pull yourself together, we have a baby to deliver.” The tone of her voice must be enough to send the other women scurrying back to their respective posts. Rose still looks like she might vomit, but Emma can’t deal with that right now. Besides, the only way for her to learn not to panic in a stressful medical situation is to, well, get through a stressful medical situation.

And there’s no better time than the present.

“Belle? Belle, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re scared,” Belle sobs through Emma’s speech, shaking her head in time with the words, “But I need you to be brave, okay? Be brave for little Gideon. He’s counting on you.”

“I need Killian, I need Killian!” Belle shouts, her voice breaking.

“You do not need Killian, Belle. Do you hear me? He is not worth your time, he does not deserve your time. You can do this on your own because you are strong and you are going to be an amazing mother.” Emma tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but she’s not sure if she succeeds. She wishes the Belle wouldn’t cling so desperately to her deadbeat of a husband, but Emma understands in a way, knows that Belle just doesn’t want to be alone.

“No, no, no,” Belle whispers frantically, her hand squeezing Rose’s so hard that the young nurse yelps.

“I need you to push now, Belle, can you do that for me? Push!” Emma directs from the end of the bed, and Belle lets out a startlingly loud scream as she pushes with everything that she’s got.

Emma repeats the directions, over and over again until there’s no more screaming, and there're only the soft cries of Gideon French, as she cleans him and places him in his mother’s arms.

Emma doesn’t stop smiling for hours.

Rose and a few of the other girls move Belle to a different room so that they can clean her own, and Emma leaves quickly for a short lunch break, before coming back to check on Belle. She brings along a sandwich from the Deli down the street, knowing Belle’s fondness for their pastrami on rye special.

Emma strides through the door to Belle’s replacement room only to stop suddenly, the worn out soles of her shoes making her slide on the polished wood. She catches herself on the dresser beside the doorway, her eyes wide as she takes in Belle and the man who definitely should not be there.

“Who in the hell are you? And how did you get past security?” Emma nearly shouts, her eyes narrowed at the man sitting next to Belle’s bed, a book in his hand that he must have been reading before Emma came in the room.

He’s a handsome enough, dark hair, long enough that a few strands fall in front of his face. He’s lean but she can tell he’s got some power behind his frame, his biceps and shoulders on prominent display underneath the army green of his henley. He’s got a sharp jawline, a pretty face, and a set of elvish ears, but his eyes are what takes him from a nine to a ten and a half: pretty, pristine blue, unlike any she’d ever seen. She notices fleetingly that he’s missing his left hand, the sleeve of his shirt ending abruptly, but she doesn’t focus on that now, all she focuses on is her absolute fury.

“Name’s Killian Jones, love, and you are?” he’s leering at her, his eyebrow raised and a smirk settled prettily on his lips.

Is he fucking kidding? **Flirting** with his wife’s midwife right in front of her? What an absolute ass.

“The woman who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t get out of this room right now.”

“Bloody hell, but I do love a fiery lass.”

“Get. Out.”

“Emma!” Belle protests, “I want him here, why can’t he stay?”

Emma sighs, running a hand down her face. She feels like she could collapse right here. She hasn’t looked in a mirror since she left her apartment this morning but she’s sure if she did she’d find her ponytail halfway undone, bags under her eyes, and smeared makeup. She feels like a wreck, and she really doesn’t want to have a discussion with Belle about company policy.

“Belle, you signed a contract when you accepted your room here promising that you wouldn’t willingly let your outside life endanger any of the workers. And from what you told me about your husband,” She points at Killian, who has a look of absolute shock on his face, and a slight hint of anger at the mention of his marriage (what a dick), “I’m going to go ahead and consider him a flight risk. Why you would even want him here is beyond me, but please, ask him to leave before I get security involved”  
Neither Killian nor Belle says anything, but Belle is clearly offended, and Killian’s clenching his jaw so tight Emma’s sure he might break it.

“Killian isn’t my husband, Emma. My husband’s, or ex-husband’s, name is Robert, and I assure you he will not come anywhere near my baby. Killian is my best friend and Gideon’s godfather.”

Emma actually feels her face and neck turn a violent shade of red as she takes a step back. She wants to run more than anything but she can’t leave like this, not without apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll just--I’ll go.” She turns to leave, but remembers Belle’s lunch before turning back around, and practically throwing the lunch at her with a quick “hereIgotyoulunch” thrown over her shoulder as she nearly sprints from the room.

* * *

 

Emma is dreading seeing Belle the next day, dragging her feet as she walks to work. She’d felt horrible after confusing Killian with Belle’s ex, and then yelling at him in front of Belle.

Emma wouldn’t be surprised if Belle left BHW simply for Emma’s radical show of unprofessionalism.

When Emma reaches the gate outside of the home she stops short. Killian is leaning against the wrought iron, a black leather jacket sitting snug on his shoulders.

“Ah, Swan, about time then. I thought perhaps you called in sick.”

“Uh--” Emma stutters, a whole mess of questions running around in her head, the most pressing of all being how in the hell he found out what her last name is.

He points to the bag that’s hanging off her shoulder, the black nursing tote that she carries with her everywhere. She sighs when she sees the monogrammed “E. Swan” gracing the top of the fabric, stitched in shining silver.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, not rudely, just curiously.

He lifts one eyebrow at her, pushing himself off the fence with the kind of grace that a leather-wearing hottie like himself shouldn’t have. It’s too much. Unbearably unfair.

“I’ve come to visit Belle and the wee lad. But I also have a bone to pick with you, love.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the pet name, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. “Listen, Jones, I’m really not in the mood to be lectured by you. I apologized yesterday, there’s not much more either of us can do, unless you want to file a formal complaint against me. In that case, you can talk to Maureen at the front desk, but I’d cut the suave, bad boy with a golden heart game, she’s got a boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t be as amicable to the Mr. Romeo act as she might be.”

He’s smiling at her, big and wide and Emma feels a fluttering in her stomach at the sight. A fluttering which she quickly shuts down, because no. No, no, no, no, no.

“Oh you’re a tough lass, I like that.”

Emma groans, moving to step around him when he catches her by the wrist, letting it go just as quickly as he took it.

“One moment, Swan, I’ve still my piece to say.”

“Yeah, well I don’t care.” she hisses through clenched teeth, ignoring the burning sensation that she feels lingering after his touch, moving quickly into the building, and trying hard to forget about Killian Jones.

* * *

 

She finds that it’s not quite as easy as she thought, avoiding the man. He’s constantly with Belle and Gideon.

Every day he arrives at the same time, conveniently at the same time that Emma arrives, and he’s there for hours on end.

Emma wishes there was a policy against how long visitors can stay but BHW is surprisingly lenient with visiting hours, as long as visitors are gone by the end of the day there’s no limit on how long they can stay.

“Don’t you have a job or something?” Emma asks after the third week of Killian visiting Belle. They usually arrive at the same time, coming from different directions, and make the short walk into the building, to reception, and up to Belle’s room together.

Killian chuckles, hand, and stump shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Aye, lass, I have a job, but the boss doesn’t mind me taking a few hours off in the morning.”

“Seems too good to be true. What kind of boss is that lax about days off?”  
“The kind of boss who’s also the sole employee.”

Emma looks at him sharply, but he’s too busy signing in to catch her gaze.

“You’re the boss?” she deadpans, suddenly unamused by his avoidance act. Why couldn’t he just come right out and say it?

“Right you are, lass.” He says, winking at her before turning toward the stairs. Emma hurries to sign in herself before rushing to catch up with him, still not ready to be done with this line of questioning.

“What kind of business doesn’t need to be operated during the day? Aren’t you missing out on potential customers?”  
He glances her way, one eyebrow raised (typical). “You really want me out of here, don’t you, lass?”

Emma feels a twinge of something in her chest, something that’s telling her that no, no she absolutely does not want him out of here. She’s found she enjoys his company, enjoys talking to him, even if it’s only for two or three minutes out of the day.

He’s nice and funny, and even though he’s constantly throwing innuendos at her she finds that she doesn’t mind the flirting. He’s kind to everyone at the home, and he’s great with both Belle and Gideon. Not to mention that he shows genuine interest in Emma as a person, rather than a piece of ass that he can claim.

“I’m a florist,” he says before she can answer, “Or I guess you could just call me a gardener. I grow the flowers, then I deliver them to local floral shops. I wake up early enough and go to bed late enough to care for the plants, and I do my deliveries on Saturday mornings. So my days are usually free. Which means,” he stretches the last word out, putting one hand on the doorframe to Belle’s room, before swinging himself inside with a grand flourish, causing Emma to peek her head around the corner to hear the second half of his sentence, but the moment she looks in the room he propels himself back, bringing them face to face. “You’re stuck with me, love.” he finishes, before swinging back into the room, greeting Belle and little Gideon with a smile on his face.

Emma has to gather herself and her emotions before she enters the room. His little stunt making the butterflies in her stomach swirl around haphazardly, knocking the air from her lungs and causing a nice blush to pink up her cheeks.

She’s so fucked.

* * *

 

Christmas arrives with little preamble. The hallways of the home are strung with garland and saddled with bright lights. Christmas music is constantly playing, and for some reason, the air always smells of sugar cookies.

Emma hates it.

She’s never had much taste for the holiday season, always choosing to spend it with Chinese food and The Princess Bride on repeat. She doesn’t get a tree, doesn’t listen to the music, doesn’t get or give gifts, and she certainly doesn’t participate in the staff Christmas party. Luckily for her, it’s an optional event.

Killian is still coming to the home every day, bringing stacks of books from the library with him because Belle claims to have read everything that BHW has to offer.

He’s also taken to bringing Emma a cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon every morning, after overhearing her “coffee” order one day when Rose went on a run to Starbucks.

They’ve gotten to know one another little by little, only small things, minor details, but she finds that she likes him, enjoys his friendship, so long as it doesn’t leave the small expanse of time that it takes them to enter the building each morning.

She can’t do more than that, though. She just can’t.

“So, any Christmas plans, Swan?”  
Emma shakes her head, swallowing a sip of her hot chocolate as they reach the massive black door of the home. He holds it open for her as she makes her way in and heads to the reception desk.

“I don’t really do Christmas.” She says while bent over the sign in sheet. “What about you? Any Christmas plans.”

“None,” he states, signing his name quickly, balancing his stack of books precariously on his left arm. “Are you going to the staff Christmas party?”  
Emma nearly spits her drink out, so taken aback by the question. “How do you know about the staff Christmas party?” she asks after she recovers.

He looks at her with a blank stare, before pointing behind her. She turns to find one of the many brightly colored (code for: obnoxious) fliers announcing the date and time for the annual party. “They even hung one up over the loo,”

She sighs, annoyed with the staff for being so blatant about the event. Would it kill to be a little discreet?

“No, I’m not going to the staff Christmas party.” she sighs, making her way up the stairs and avoiding his eyes.

“Well why not?” he questions, catching up to her quickly, “I’ll be there, so you know it’ll be smashing.” Emma rolls her eyes at just how British he is. Is the accent not enough? He sounds like he came straight out of a Harry Potter book.

“I told you, I don’t do Christmas.”

“But this isn’t Christmas!” he implores, “This is the Christmas party.”

“How are you even allowed to go! You don’t work here!”

“Ah, well,” she chances a glance his way to find him scratching behind his ear, a nervous tick of his she’s discovered. She smiles behind her hot chocolate at the sight of him, Killian Jones, embarrassed. “It seems your assistant, Rose I believe, has taken a bit of a liking to me. She cornered me on my way out of aforementioned loo yesterday and invited me.”

“She doesn’t have the authority to do that,” Emma huffs under her breath, knowing she’s going to have to have a talk with Rose about what constitutes as acceptable and unacceptable behavior toward visitors.

“So you’ll come?” He asks all pleading voice and puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t say that,” she replies, they’ve stopped walking, just standing in the hallway of the second floor, facing one another.

“Come on, Swan,” he winks at her, “Have a little Christmas cheer.”

He’s smiling at her and she’s melting on the inside, but that’s exactly the reason why she can’t come to the Christmas party, she can’t see him outside of their five to ten-minute window, otherwise she might develop feelings. She doesn’t need feelings. Feelings are messy.

But she also can’t stand the thought of letting him down, of upsetting him somehow.

“I’ll think about it,” she concedes, turning around before he can say anything else. She can’t hide the smile on her face when he lets out a whooping cheer, earning himself a prompt shushing from Lisa, one of the older nurses.

“See you Saturday, Emma!” he calls out as she makes her way to her first patient’s room.

She just waves him off, but the butterflies in her stomach are throwing a riot at the sound of her name on his lips.

* * *

 

Emma decides she’s not going to go eight different times, changing out of her dresses and back into her sweats before finally sucking it up, skipping over the outfits in her closet that are far tighter and far more revealing,  the kinds of dresses she uses when she needs a quick fling in the sheets from some guy at the bar.

She decides on a red velvet number, with long sleeves and a length that’s just short enough to show off her legs: the perfect holiday dress. She puts on a pair of black pumps, does her hair up high in a pretty bun, and she’s out the door in a flash, not giving herself time to think over her decision again.

She’s nervous, because despite having worked at the Boston Home for Women for almost a decade now, she’s never once gone to the staff Christmas party, and she doesn’t know what to expect.

By eight she’s walking up to the front door, taking a deep breath before twisting the knob and stepping into the bright foyer.

She’s accosted by a wide array of senses: loud Christmas music, bright lights, the smell of baked goods and appetizers, the sight of Killian Jones in a suit.

A suit.

Dear lord.

He looks good enough to eat, his maroon themed outfit pulling out her festive side in no time. He’s got on a black tie, some nice dress shoes, and she falters when she sees that he’s wearing a prosthetic hand. She’s never seen him with it before, and she finds that though she doesn’t mind it, she’d rather see his skin, feel his skin, have him touch her with--Jesus she needs to get a hold of herself.

She grabs a glass of wine off the serving table to her left, swallowing it whole, before going for a refill, but she hears him call her name the moment she uncorks the bottle.

“Swan!” he calls out, and she turns to find him standing in front of her, Belle by his side and Gideon in her arms. Gideon looks all the world like a happy little baby. He’s wearing his own little suit, though his is dark green, like a Christmas tree. “You made it,” Killian says, joy radiating from every feature.

Emma nods, swallowing once before facing Belle. “How are you doing, Belle?”

“Good, good,” she says, bouncing Gideon in her arms and pulling a giggle from his plump little lips. “Gideon and I are just dying for some more books, though. I wish I could take him to the library but I have word from a few of my friends that Robert is still in the country, though he’s on trial for a whole slew of horrible crimes. Once he’s locked away I can finally feel safe enough to take little Gideon home with me.”

Emma nods along with the story, she’s heard it all from Killian over the past weeks. Killian seems to have an acute hatred for Belle’s ex, and Emma can’t say that she blames him. He’s a real piece of work, that guy.

“Emma, would you care to dance?” Killian asks after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Uh,” Emma stutters, avoiding Killian’s gaze. “I’m not--”  
“Oh yes, go dance! I think little Gideon here needs a diaper change anyway.” Belle says, turning away before Emma can protest.

“Come on,” Killian says, grabbing Emma’s hand and pulling her out onto the makeshift dance floor that her colleagues have set up. The place is crowded, everyone having brought their significant other’s and their kids. Emma feels like she’s suffocating, but the moment Killian places his prosthetic on the small of her back and pulls her closer to him she feels the tension release, feels herself relax.

They sway to the music, before Killian’s grip tightens on her hand, forcing her to look up and face him.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, staring at her unflinchingly, some type of raw emotion set in his eyes.

“Yeah,” is all Emma can say, because she feels like she’s going to explode if she doesn’t get out of this situation. She can’t stand here and watch Killian watch her, can’t bear the look in his eyes, like he wants more, like he wants more than their ten minutes a day.

“Are you okay?” he asks, the blue of his eyes bright as he looks at her worriedly.

“I just need some fresh air,” Emma stutters out, releasing him quickly before practically sprinting from the room. She makes her way upstairs, knowing that she just needs to get away, needs to get out of Killian’s presence.

She finds herself in the room Belle used for a few hours after her labor, settling herself down on the bed and sinking her head into her hands.

“Emma?” she hears, and she’s just so glad that it’s not Killian’s voice that she sighs in relief.

“Hi, Belle.”

“What are you doing up here?” Belle asks, sitting down next to her on the bed. Gideon must be napping because he’s not with her anymore.

“I just, uh, I needed a little time to myself.”

Belle nods, staying silent for a moment, but it doesn’t last for long.

“It’s Killian isn’t it?”

Emma looks up at her with wide eyes, “What? No. No, of course not.”

Belle just smiles at her, reaching down to take Emma’s hand in her own.

“He likes you.”

Emma shakes her head, “No, no we’re just friends.”

Belle laughs, the sound light and airy, “Oh, Emma, no. I see the way the both of you look at each other, and if that’s not enough, then you should hear the way he talks about you. God, he never shuts up about you. Every day it’s Emma this or Swan that. I’m pretty sure that Gideon’s first word is going to be either ‘Emma’ or ‘Swan’.”

Emma lets out a watery chuckle at that, not sure why she’s on the verge of tears. She doesn’t like Killian, has never liked Killian, so why is she freaking out so much?

“You like him too.”

“No,” Emma says with vehemence, she needs to stomp down that thought, needs to make sure Belle doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“Yes,” Belle says, squeezing Emma’s hand. “Why are you here, Emma?”  
Emma’s shocked by the question at first, unsure of why Belle has changed the topic, “I”m staff. It’s the staff Christmas party, why else would I be here?”

“I know you’ve never gone to one of these parties before, Emma, the whole staff was buzzing about it downstairs after you arrived. Everyone was so shocked that you’d came. So why did you?”

Emma just shakes her head again, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “I can’t like him,” she says, her voice breaking.

“Why not?”

“Because love isn’t in the cards for me!” Emma nearly shouts, rising from the bed and starting to pace. “It never has been. I was abandoned by my own parents, knocked up by some asshole and left in a jail cell to take the blame for his crime. No one has ever loved me, and no one ever will. Everybody in my life leaves and Killian will too!”

When Emma looks back at Belle she finds the other woman smiling, and hot fury rushes through Emma’s veins. “Oh, this is funny to you? Great.”

“Talk to Killian,” is all she says, and Emma scoffs, not worried at all about being rude.

“Why, so he can laugh at me too?”

“Just talk to him, Emma,” Belle says, before rising up to kiss Emma’s cheek, patting her arm and walking out of the room.

Emma has no intention of talking to Killian, instead, she just grabs her coat and heads out the front door, not bothering to say goodbye to any of her colleagues. She’s halfway down the front steps when she spots a figure leaning against the fence.

It’s Killian because of course it is.

“Swan,” he says by way of greeting, “leaving so soon?”

Emma grunts out a reply before trying to move past him, but he grabs her by the wrist, letting go of it as fast as he’d taken it. “Wait, Emma, can we talk?”  
“I really have to go, Killian.”

“It will only take a moment, Swan, promise.” He makes a crossing motion over his heart and Emma would laugh at his childish antics but she’s too high strung right now. All she can think about is getting as far away from Killian as possible.

“Fine, but make it quick.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” He gives her an amused look but she’s not in the mood, plastering on a face of indifference and watching as his smile fades (and her heart breaks).

He clears his throat before continuing, reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “Um, well I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but the timing hasn’t quite been right. I’m hoping you’ll be amiable, though, since it’s Christmas and all.”  
“It’s December 19th,” she deadpans, and he chuckles at that.

“Aye, but it’s the Christmas party, and that’s about as Christmassy as it gets, other than, you know, the actual holiday.”

“What’s your question, Killian?”

“Go out with me?”

Emma takes a physical step back when he asks, shocked that he’d be so forward. She didn’t know what she was expecting when he said he wanted to ask her a question, but it wasn’t this.

“Killian, I--”

“Listen, Emma, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t only talk to you for five minutes every day and then pretend like I’m not thinking about talking to you again for the next one thousand, four hundred, and thirty-five of them.”

Emma’s gaping at him, and she doesn’t know what to say. She wants to say YES, scream it from the rooftops, but she can’t do that because a yes means a no eventually. A yes means a goodbye.

“I like you, Emma. I like you a whole bloody lot and I just want to spend some more time with you, get to know you beyond your coffee order and your favorite music. So please, just give me a chance, Emma. Give us a chance.”

She takes a breath before replying, gathering her courage.

“Killian, I--I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He deflates the moment the words leave her mouth, his shoulders slumping and his face falling.

“I’m sorry, I must have misinterpreted, I--I’ll let you go, Swan.”

He turns to leave, but Emma catches him by the shoulder. She feels too bad to let him think his feelings are one-sided. She likes him, she knows she does, she just can’t let it go anywhere.

“You didn’t misinterpret anything, Killian. I just--I can’t be what you want. I can’t date you because I can’t lose you as a friend. Everyone leaves, and so will you, and I can’t handle that.”

He takes a step toward her, and she wants to step back, wants to step away because he’s too close now, and close is bad, close makes her stomach swoop and her face grow hot.

“What makes you think I’ll leave, Emma?”  
“No one’s ever stayed.” she whispers, her voice catching on the end and his fingers dip under her chin at that, pulling her head up until she meet his eyes, his too blue eyes that are totally open and honest, taking his feelings and presenting them to her plain and simple, no tricks, no hiding.

“I stay Swan, all I do is stay. You’ve known me for three months now and have I ever once not shown up to walk with you inside this bloody building?”

Emma shakes her head, trying to avert her gaze but he’s having none of it, forcing her to look at him with a gentle touch.

“I”m staying, Emma. Let me prove myself, let me show you I won’t leave.”

She looks at him and sees nothing but blatant sincerity, nothing but love and it scares her, but it also excites her, makes her feel warm and safe and happy.

“I’m scared,” she whispers and he takes another step forward at her words, tilting his forehead against her own, his nose nudging hers.

“Me too, Emma, but I want to try. Tell me you want to try.”

She doesn’t respond, just presses up on her tiptoes until her lips meet his, a gentle touch, a whisper of a kiss. She pulls back and finds his eyes still closed, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek and his fingers sliding into the loose strands of her hair.

“I want to try.” she whispers, and that’s all he needs to pull her body against his, to press his lips against her own.

He kisses her reverently, slowly and surely, but no less passionately. She sighs into the kiss, falling against him and trusting him to hold her up (he does).

When he pulls back he’s smiling a wide, goofy smile, and she’s sure she’s got one to match.

“Do you want to get out of here, before they kick us out for loitering?” she asks, tugging on the lapels of his jacket until he kisses her once more.

“Aren’t you the one who does the kicking out around here, Swan?” he says against her lips, and she chuckles at the memory, no longer embarrassed by the circumstances of their first meeting.

“Keep it up and I might just have make good on that promise of mine to kick your ass.”

“Trust me, darling, I look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Review please? :)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr! georgianablythe16


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